


Gradually

by centroid



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, ethan nestor - Fandom
Genre: Drabble, Other, Sad, crisis text hotline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 02:25:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10350330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centroid/pseuds/centroid
Summary: sometimes people need help.





	

Ethan shut his eyes tightly, moving the muscle back and forth under the skin, trying to focus on anything other than what his mind was throwing at him.

_You can do it, it’s not bad, you won’t get in trouble._

He knows, he really does, and he has the 741-741 typed in on his phone and he has the word home written in, but he can’t press the send button. His day was good, great even. Minimal anxiety, great day at work, great conversations with friends. But now he was sad, crying even, and he couldn’t seem to mend where he had torn in two.

Ethan has fucked up like any other teen would. He’s messed things up, he’s apologized, and he’s moved on.

But this time, he was stuck. Ethan was stuck and as much as he had good days it always came back to the bad days.

The phone light glared back at him, and tears blurred his vision.

He was being stupid.

He could do it. He could press the button, and then he wouldn’t have a choice. He would have to talk to someone about what was troubling him, and it would get sorted out.

Or he could hit the cancel button and act like nothing happened.

He chose the latter, quickly dropping his phone after closing out of the text bubble. It was past three in the morning.

He tried to let it slip his mind, but the more he stared at the ceiling the more he could feel the presence of his phone weighing on the mattress beside him.

He picked it up once again, this time only opening the messages.

_You can do it, You’re not in trouble, you just wanna talk to someone._

_But- they have better things to worry about. More important people who need help instead of your petty problems._

Ethan was right.

He remembered the time two years ago when he was crying, staring up at his ceiling, and he debated reaching out for help. He had quickly shut the idea down, even if times were harder then. Then he remembered the time one year ago, he looked up the number, but never got to the messaging app. Now, here he was, doing the same thing. At least he got farther this time.

He put the phone down, and turned, pulling the covers over his head.

Maybe next time.


End file.
